Singed Feathers
by sk8r-grl
Summary: Ever since Dean and Sam found Castiel, Dean has taken it upon himself to train the fallen angel in the ways of man. Dean showed Cas how to dress himself, comb his hair, brush his teeth, how to make a sandwich. And today's assignment is baking.


It's been one week since Dean and Sam finally managed to track down Castiel. The poor angel-turned-man was wandering around a small ghost town. Since then, Dean has taken it upon himself to train Castiel in the ways of man. Dean showed Cas how to dress himself, comb his hair, brush his teeth, how to make a sandwich. And today's assignment was baking. Nothing too hard, just your average Pillsbury chocolate chip cookie mix.

"Now, grab the pan outta the oven," Dean instructs as he wrestles with the saran wrap, his back to Castiel.

"Alright," Castiel's gruff voice makes the corner of Dean's mouth lilt up in a smile. Cas is taking this whole thing a little too seriously and Dean is enjoying hassling the man a little too much.

Suddenly, Castiel curses out loud. Dean smirks; Castiel cussing is one of the funniest things, in his opinion. Dean turns around from where he is _finally_ setting out an untangled strip of saran wrap for the fresh-baked cookies. The beginnings of a smile are on Dean's lips until he sees that the angel is holding the cookie sheet—fresh out of the oven—in his bare hand. The oven mitt sits dejectedly where Dean had left it and he scolds himself for forgetting to mention to use it. Castiel whimpers before he finally tosses the sheet towards a counter haphazardly. He misses. The cookie sheet hits the counter, clatters loudly to the floor, and cookies skitter along the linoleum.

Dean forgets his saran wrap and takes two large steps across the kitchen to reach Castiel. The smaller man is clutching his hand to his chest, tears threatening to spill from his bright blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean. I did not mean to—" Cas begins in a shaky voice.

"Don't apologize, Cas, this is my fault. Let me see," Dean says, holding out his hand for Castiel to place his in.

Slowly, Castiel places his left hand in Dean's. His fingertips are an angry shade of red and he feels as though his fingerprints have been singed off. "_Cas_," Dean breathes as he examines the wound, brushing his fingertips over Cas's burnt thumb. Castiel hisses in pain, retracting a fraction of an inch.

"Let me get you some burn cream, okay? Just sit tight," Dean murmurs, releasing Cas's hand and making a beeline to the bathroom.

When Dean returns, he finds Castiel on his knees, plucking up the cookies with his right hand and placing them on a plate he has set out on the floor. Dean kneels down beside Cas, clearing his throat. Castiel sniffles, hurriedly wiping tears from his face with the back of his right hand before turning and facing Dean. The hunter isn't fooled, though. Castiel's eyes are pooling with more tears, his eyes are slightly puffy, and Dean knows Cas—he knows when something is wrong. Wordlessly, Dean asks Castiel for his hand again. Castiel extends the burnt hand, palm upwards. Dean uncaps the burn cream before squeezing some onto his index finger. He applies it to two of Castiel's fingers gingerly. Castiel chews on his bottom lip, trying hard not to pull away at Dean's tender touch.

"So," Dean starts slowly, cautiously, "what's going on, Cas?"

Castiel sighs quietly. "Nothing."

Dean looks up from rubbing a small amount of cream onto Castiel's middle fingertip. He locks eyes with the former angel. "C'mon, Cas," he pushes. "I know you. I know something's up."

Castiel averts his gaze to a broken cookie on the floor. "I just… I feel as though I am not very good at being a human. It seems that I have a tendency to mess up _everything_ I try to accomplish."

Dean furrows his brow. "Hey." He barks, gaining Castiel's gaze. "You _do not_ mess up everything you do." Dean says gruffly, applying the cream with a little too much force on Castiel's thumb.

"Ouch," Castiel pulls back, he feels the nerves in his fingertips are screaming. He clutches his now-medicated hand to his chest once more. He is on the verge of tears when he fights back. "It's true, Dean." Castiel spits the words out harshly. "I have fallen from Heaven. I have betrayed you when I took the souls from purgatory! I lied to you and worked with Crowley!"

"Cas, that's old news," Dean tries to tell him, but Cas is on a roll and does not stop to listen to his friend.

"I played GOD! I dragged you to purgatory with me! I worked with Metatron when you advised me not to! I-I…" Castiel is full-on bawling now; tears are streaming down his face. "I _fell_, Dean! And I caused my brothers to fall as well! _I-I… I don't know what to do! _I'm a failure, Dean!"

Dean roughly grabs Castiel and wraps him in a hug. "Damnit, Cas, just shut up for a sec," Dean is a tad harsher than he intends. He feels Castiel's body wrack with another sob, but Castiel is forcing himself to be quiet. Dean burrows his face in Castiel's hair, nuzzling the angel's soft locks in a comforting way. "Just… let it out." He says into the dark brown hair. And Castiel's arms are suddenly wrapped around Dean's torso as a gut-wrenching wail is ripped from Castiel's lungs. Cas is gripping fistfuls of Dean's tee shirt as though it is a lifeline thrown out to him in a rough sea. The former angel's face is burrowed in the crook of Dean's neck and shoulder blade and large, heartbreaking sobs escape Castiel's lips. Dean feels the warm wetness of tears soaking through his shirt and feels the warm puffs of breath hitting his collarbone. Dean is silent, allowing Castiel to cry; he has been expecting this to happen, honestly.

Ever since they found Cas, the angel has been strangely quiet. Acting very strong and silent. Acting a lot like how Dean guesses he would act under similar circumstances. But this is Cas. And Dean has known that Cas is much more sensitive—much more affected than what he had been letting on. So, Dean is quiet and lets Castiel cry on him. Minutes later, Castiel's wails have turned into hiccups and the occasional whimper. "My fingers hurt," he finally says into Dean's neck, releasing Dean from the grip of his left hand and drawing it back to his chest.

Dean takes the wounded hand in his, lifting it to his eyelevel. Castiel untangles himself from Dean and moves so that he is sitting in front of him. The burn cream is all but gone; most of it has been rubbed off somewhere on the back of Dean's tee shirt. The hunter brings Castiel's hand to his face and places a light kiss on Castiel's thumb. The kiss is feather soft and Dean closes his eyes as it lingers. Castiel's breath hitches and he watches Dean, mesmerized.

Dean raises his lips from Castiel's thumb and says, "You." he places another kiss on Castiel's index finger and continues, "Are."

He moves onto the middle finger. "Not."

"A." Ring finger.

"Failure." Pinky.

As Dean removes his lips from Castiel's pinky, he looks up into Castiel's eyes. Sapphires and emeralds. Sky and earth. The ocean meeting the land. Dean's eyes search Castiel's for any sign of discomfort. After all, Dean has never let on his true feelings until now. But the angel looks surprised and somewhat in disbelief. Dean takes advantage of this and begins consoling the angel of Thursday.

"I don't care about the lying or Crowley or any of that crap. That's the past. It's forgotten… " he says softly and slowly. "Purgatory is over. We got out. That's all that matters, right? I mean, you stayed behind to do penance. You gotta cut yourself a break, man. You are one of the best men I know. You always help me out even when I'm acting like a huge dick. Look, I am a major screw-up so I know that you are not—by any means—a failure. Cas, you gotta know that you're one of the best men I know and…" Dean is tracing the lines on Castiel's palm absent-mindedly.

Castiel's eyes tear into Dean's. "… 'And' what?" he inquires, leaning forwards slightly.

Dean laughs breathily, sheepishly looking at the ground. Before he thinks about it too much, Dean brings Castiel's injured hand up again and plants a soft kiss square in the middle of his palm, looking up at him from under his blonde lashes. "And I… love you."

Castiel's eyebrows shoot up and a look of astonishment is slapped across his face.

"Uh, so… Yeah…" Dean stammers, releasing Cas's hand slowly. He tries to read whether the shock on Castiel's face is a good or bad sign, but Cas isn't usually caught off-guard so Dean can't tell. Dean chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and looks up at the ceiling self-consciously. "Like, if you don't, _you know_… you don't have to say anything… I just… Dammit-"

"I love you, too, Dean."

Surprise is on Dean's face now. He whips his head back to face Cas. A small smile is on Castiel's full lips and Dean can't help himself. He grabs either side of Castiel's face in his hands and pulls the angel's face to his, their lips connecting like lightening striking the earth. Like waves crashing on a beach, their lips work in a steady rhythm. As if they were made for each other. Castiel sighs into Dean as the hunter rakes his fingers through Cas's dark hair. Castiel savors this moment, feeling the most whole he has felt in his entire existence. When they part, Dean smirks at Castiel mischievously.

"Well, that was… _damn_." He exclaims breathily, dropping his hands to his lap. He licks his lips. "You _definitely_ did not mess that up in _any_ way."

Castiel blushes, ducking his head with a grin. Dean ducks his head, too, raising his eyebrows as he catches hold of Castiel's gaze once more. He places a hand on Castiel's shoulder, squeezing it lightly. They sit like that for a beat, sharing one of their looks. Finally, Dean pushes himself to his feet and extends a hand for Castiel to grab onto. He helps hoist Cas to his feet before surveying the kitchen. He picks up the plate of cookies that Castiel had gathered before picking up the last few broken cookies and placing them on it as well. "Well, what do you say we enjoy our cookies with some milk now?" he asks with a wink.

Castiel smiles lightly and nods. "I would like that very much, Dean."

As they exit the kitchen with their glasses of milk and plate of cookies, Dean nudges his shoulder against Castiel's. "We can give the broken cookies to Sammy."


End file.
